Hands
The minister’s convention was on
All arrangements had been made
The sessions were all on schedule
Each admission duly paid.
They were quite a striking lot
Each one dressed in suit and tie
Every perfect preacher led
An equally perfect wife.
The children all were cared for
In a little room upstairs
Each minister’s wife assured
They would get the best of care.
The sessions all looked promising
Ethics, Ministry and Parsonage Life
Housekeeping, Hospitality
Taught by a veteran preacher’s wife.
Each day they learned a little more
About caring for the flock
Ev’ry session carefully timed
By auditorium clock.
But soon it was drawing to a close
The forty-third yearly convention
Each facet of ministry covered:
Everything worthy of mention.
The last session a diff’rent format
It would be a sharing one
Each minister sharing his success
And the good things he had done.
“Not to be a braggart” said the first
“But I have won many a soul
By knocking on doors and making calls
I have brought many to the fold.”
“Our church has many programs”
A second preacher stood and shared
“Married, singles, youth and kids
We are known as the ones who care.”
On and on they shared success
In numbers they had won
‘Til the director raised a hand
And said, “We’re almost done.”
“I don’t believe we’ve heard from
The brother by the aisle
Would you care to share with us
Your own ministry style?”
A few impatient snickers
As he rose up to his feet
He wasn’t very stylish
Though his clothes were pressed and neat.
Looking all around the room
A smile lit his face
“My message is a holy life
While showing all God’s grace.”
“I don’t dress to be the best
Nor do I dress to be the worst
My clothes are not important
For in my heart, people come first.”
“My preaching has made angry
Some members of the church
But helped many a sinner
When for God they did search.”
“I don’t preach in a building
For men’s hearts are God’s temple
These are what I seek to win
By truth that is made simple.”
“That sounds easy enough”
The director spoke up then
“But what have you really done
A lost, dying soul to win?”
“Hands that knock on doors
Are worthy and they’re good
Hands that give food to the poor
Are doing as they should.”
“Hands that gesture winsomely
While a preacher preaches
Or point to a Scripture verse
While the teacher teaches.”
“You ask what my hands have done
A lost world to win
I have come to free them
From darkness and from sin.”
He reached out to the nearest one
Sitting in the pew
“My friend, here’s what my hands have done
To save even one like you.”
A gasp rose from the group
And each felt very small
For all the boasting they had done
Meant nothing at all.
In light of what they saw
They had nothing more to share
For looking at the Stranger’s hands
They saw nail prints there.